Her Half-Brother's Douche Bag Friend
by charcoal-lashes
Summary: Clary Morgenstern had everything she could have ever wanted. No complaints. Until her father wound up in the hospital and was suddenly in critical need of a liver transplant. Now, the only person she can call on for help is her half-brother, Jonathan. Unfortunately, he comes with a real jerk of a best friend too.
1. Chapter 1: Unfortunately

Clary's family meant everything to her. Her mother, whom which she shared her love of art with, was always there for her, ready and waiting with a box of tissues every time a guy dumped her or giving her advice when life around her became just too overwhelming. Her father, no matter how busy he was with his job as a hot-shot New York criminal defense lawyer, always managed to make time for her and gave her everything she could have ever wanted and more: clothes, private schooling, art supplies, etc.

Okay, now back to reality.

Her phone made a deafening smack against the floor underneath her, no doubt shattering the screen, destroying the phone.

"Clary?!" her mother yelled at her from inside the silver slab of crystal glass But Clary couldn't focus on that right now, she couldn't focus on anything. The words her mother had said just moments before swam around her reeling brain.

"transplant" "donor" "fatal" "testing"

"Clary!" Simon yelled, snapping her out of her trance. Her cracked screen now rested against Simon's ear. Clary could barely make out the faint directions her mother, Jocelyn, was ordering at him through the device.

"Okay. Okay, we're on our way." Simon promised into the phone, ending the call just before meeting Clary with his wide, brown eyes. "Your mom wants you there." he said soothingly.

Clary was still shocked. She had known her father was a bit of an alcoholic, however she had never guessed he would be put in a fatal situation in which he would need a liver transplant. If he couldn't find a donor, he would die.

"Clare, we gotta go." Simon pressed once more. Clary shook her head as if to collect herself again.

"Yeah," she said almost inaudibly, "yeah, let's go." Clary picked up her bag and walked at a brisk pace out the front door of Java Jones, her and Simon's favorite coffee shop that his band sometimes managed to play at. Simon scuttled behind her, only barely able to keep up with her determined footing.

When Clary and Simon arrived at Idris Hill hospital a teary-eyed Jocelyn was there to meet them immediately.

"Clary!" she sighed with relief, pulling her only daughter into her arms.

"Mom what happened?" Clary questioned frantically, her voice muffled in her mother's embrace. She pulled back to look up into the green eyes her mother bore that seemed to match her own perfectly. "I saw him just a few days ago. He was fine! I don't understand."

"I don't know either, sweetheart." Jocelyn said softly, cupping Clary's pale face with her equally pale, petite hands. "I was at Luke's and the hospital called me. They said he was at work and all of a sudden he was coughing up blooding and then he passed out."

"Oh my God!" Clary cried, covering her face with her hands as she backed away from her mother into a chair. "What's going to happen to him?! Is he going to die?" Simon sat in the chair next to her and placed his hand on her shoulder in comfort, not quite sure how to console her properly. He also chose not to speak which probably was for the best.

"Clarissa, honey, listen to me." her mother said severely, kneeling on the ground in front of her. "Your father is not going to die. We are gonna do everything we can to find him a donor."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Morgenstern," a tall, greying man in scrubs interjected. Three heads snapped to him and stood immediately.

"Yes?" Jocelyn said nervously, grasping her daughter's hand for support.

"I'm Dr. Starkweather, your husband's physician." he said with concern tainted through his eyes and voice. "As I am sure you already know, your husband is going to need a liver transplant within a matter of weeks." he sighed, "Unfortunately, he's at the bottom of a transplant list for our particular hospital and I am afraid a few weeks will not be enough time for a new liver to be reached to his place on said list." he said gravely, following his statement with a few moments of silence in order for the news to sink in.

"Oh!" Clary's mother cried, tears falling from her eyelids, wetting her recently dried cheeks yet again. "Wh-What... what can we do?" she blubbered, devastated by the news.

"Well," Dr Starkweather began, hesitating only for a moment. "If you can find a willing donor that is also a match for your husband, we can preform the surgery as soon as the correct paperwork has been taken care of." his eyes flicked to Clary, then back to a crying Jocelyn. "Do you and your husband have any children that could be a potential match?"

"Yes." she said, regaining her composure-yet only slightly. Turning to Clary, Jocelyn put her hands on her daughter's shoulders and pushed her forward ever-so-slightly. "This is our daughter, Clary." she said. "Do you think Clary could be a match?"

"It is possible," the old doctor offered, "we would obviously have to do a few tests to see if she is indeed an acceptable donor."

Immediately, Clary stepped up. "I'm ready. How soon can I be tested?" she asked, unwavering in her sudden words.

Taken aback by her forwardness, Dr. Starkweather stared for a moment. "Well, Miss Morgenstern... this may be something you would like to consider." he began, "the recovery time alone is a substantial amount of time and the surgery can have compli-"

"This is my father." Clary deadpanned, cutting him short.

"I understand Miss Morgenstern, but-" again, Clary had him cut short.

"No, Dr. Starkweather you don't understand." She stated, finality laced in her words. "This. Is. My. Father. Now, where can I be admitted to gets these tests ran?" Jocelyn squeezed Clary's hand tightly, as she pushed a small smile on her face. Simon took her other hand quickly, squeezing it as well to show her his support.

"Shit!" Clary winced as another painfully long needle inserted itself into her forearm.

Clary already had issues with needles and it certainly wasn't helping that the nervous-and obviously new-nurse had shoved two other needles into her skin, failing to hit her vein. This one hadn't hit either, and Clary thought she was either gonna pass out or slap the shit out of this woman. The latter seemed like a more promising idea.

"Would you just find the damn vein before I end up like swiss cheese with all these fucking holes!" Clary yelled.

"I'm sorry," the tiny nurse squeaked, as she finally managed to do the job.

As the blood slurped up through the tube alarmingly slowly, Clary found herself having to turn away from it, her stomach churning. Her eyes found Simon's who gave her a reassuring smile, knowing how hard it was for her to let someone jab a needle into her arm. Clary didn't like veins. Or blood. Twenty-one years old and she still couldn't bear the sight of her own blood; it was revolting. She gazed out the door of the small room she was in to get her blood drawn, looking for her mother. She found her at a desk conversing with the nurse behind it, scribbling on paperwork as she did.

Clary always thought her mother looked so pristine. A long, unbuttoned, black peacoat covered a sleeveless, emerald green dress that matched her dazzling eyes hugged tightly to her curves. Black heels that took her a few inches off the ground strapped around her feet and her usual delicate jewelry frosted her wrists, neck, and ears. Clary's father, Valentine, had never spared any expense on his wife or daughter when it came to adorning them with the finest jewelry. Clary noted that her mothers long, red hair was in soft curls down her back and her makeup, as usual, was light yet striking.

She looked down her own outfit, desperately trying to keep the tube of blood out of her peripheral vision as she did so. Clary wore dark wash designer jeans, cuffed at the bottom, they stopped at her ankle which had a single, brown strap form her Tory Burch Sandals wrapped around it. The hem of her black tank top showed an inch or two of toned, flat midriff and she wore a light grey, long-sleeved sweater overtop. Her fiery red hair fell across her shoulders in soft curls that matched her mothers. The makeup on her face was minuscule: a sweep of black eyeliner, powdered foundation to even out her skin tone, mascara, and a light brush of cherry Chapstick.

"We're all done." the stupid nurse next to Clary said softly, removing the needle from her skin with as little grace as she had put it in. Clary flinched and pursed her lips so as not to spew another string of profanities at the poor woman and stood up, still hand in hand with Simon.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" he offered, "Last time you cried like a baby the whole time."

"Oh I did not!" Clary defended, swatting him with her free hand. She allowed Simon to guide her out toward the cafeteria where her mother had told them to wait for her until after she had finished the necessary paperwork.

Three boys sitting at a small table in the cafeteria turned their heads in Clary's direction as her and Simon walked by. She always thought that she would get used to it: the staring. She never did. To this day the thought of male eyes raking up and down her body like they normally did made her squirm. Clary knew she was pretty; not gorgeous, not breathtaking, just decently pretty. Simon always noticed too.

"There staring at you." Simon mumbled, obviously annoyed. But Clary was oblivious to his annoyance, every time it happened. Never had she thought of Simon as more than a friend. Little did she know that that was all he thought about.

"Are they?" she asked, seeming disinterested as she picked through a plate of fruit at the complimentary buffet table they stood at.

"How long until you get your labs back? Did they say?" Simon asked, changing the subject.

"I dunno." Clary sighed, distracted at the thought of her dad that she was still unable to see. "I think they said they would try to rush it... maybe a few hours."

Simon filled a plate and lead Clary and himself to a nearby table. Looking around, Clary noticed that doctors, patients, and family or friends of patients packed into the bustling cafeteria. There were so many people it occurred to her that maybe all the other people here were here for the same reason as her: trying to save the lives of the people that meant the most to them.

"Want some?" Simon asked, his mouth full of green jello. It was an empty gesture. He wasn't sharing. Clary shook her head.

Three servings of green jello and two Words With Friends games later, Clary saw her mother walking briskly toward them, her father's doctor in tow. Seeing the distressed look on her mothers face, Clary frantically shot up out of her chair across from Simon. On her way up she bumped the table just enough to knock over the last spoonful of Simon's third green jello onto the table.

"Hey!" he cried.

"Is everything okay, Mom? Did the tests come back? Am I cleared for the transplant?"

A tear-which was quickly wiped away-began to slide down her sad mother's face. Saying nothing, Jocelyn pulled Clary into an embrace. Then the doctor guy began to speak.

"Unfortunately Clarissa-"

"Clary." she interrupted. She really needed to stop doing that, people might take her as rude.

"Yes, of course, _Clary,_ " he corrected, "Unfortunately, you aren't a match for your father." he relayed gravely. "The two of you have different blood types and I'm afraid that there just isn't anything else we can do until we have a donor that is a match."

The news hit Clary harder than she had expected it would. Then again, she had also expected that she would have been a match and a bunch of nurses would be poking her again, prepping her for surgery right about now. Simon stayed silent and her mother did as well although she still clung to Clary like a lifeline.

"I'm so sorry. Mrs. Morgenstern," Dr. Starkweather said to her mother, "I really am."

It was at this point that a steady stream of silent tears began to fall from Jocelyn's eyes.

With her mother still not speaking, Dr. Starkweather continued, "If you would like to see him now, you may." As he said this his eyes now went to Clary, assuming her into the position of the adult due to her mother's current state.

"Yes. We would like that." Clary said.

Dr. Starkweather began to lead Clary, her best friend Simon, and her mother Jocelyn to her father's private room on the third floor. Doctors and nurses scrambling about, tending to patients and barking orders at their inferiors. It was a job Clary knew she would hate. She was never big into competitive playing fields or high-risk situations. Her first true love was drawing and thinking about wearing a boring white lab coat all day whilst cutting into people put her off. Suddenly, Dr. Starkweather stopped at a closed door and turned on his heel in front of them.

"Let's do our best to be positive right now for him. Weeping and negative energy aren't gonna help his case, therefore I suggest we do our absolute best to keep the crying to a minimum." he said, finishing his short soliloquy with an encouraging clap.

Opening the door, Dr. Starkweather stepped aside to let them in, shutting the door behind Simon so the five of them could have some privacy.

"You look like hell, Mr. Morgenstern." Simon said truthfully. No one bothered to correct him. Clary's father did look like hell. He looked puny and pale in the blue hospital bed, making Clary wonder if that was really the same six-foot-something man that would wear a slick, black suit and threaten her dates at the door with the "gun" he kept in the house.

"Thanks, Simon. I feel like hell too." her father croaked out. This too caught Clary off-guard: her father's voice was strong and sturdy, this man sitting in the bed was barely recognizable. Her once strong father was now sitting in a hospital bed with a pained face all because he liked to drink on the weekends (and then some.)

"Are you feeling okay daddy?" Clary asked in her small, childlike voice.

Her father smiled, it was the same smile she had known for twenty one years. "I've been better, princess." This caused Clary to smile. Usually when he called her princess it was intended to come off sarcastic, this time however, it was loving.

"Oh Val," her mother whispered, falling to her knees at his side, clearly torn up and clearly not taking Dr. Starkweather's advice to stay strong and optimistic for her husband. She clutched his hand.

"Mr. Morgenstern, as soon as I can address the things I need to address I'll let you have this time with your family." Dr. Starkweather said almost impatiently. Clary didn't like him.

"Of course, Doc." her father said allowing him to relay his news.

"Your daughter here was testing a few hours ago to determine whether she was a match to possibly donate a portion of her liver to you." At this Clary's father eyes snapped to her. He clearly hadn't been informed. "However our testing determined that she does not share your blood type therefore we have no current donors ready that can help you at this time." the doctor sighed, "You have been put on a list that will likely take months-possibly years-to finally reach you."

Valentine's face stayed impassive while Jocelyn hid hers in her husbands shoulder. It, obviously, was not impassive.

"Unless you have other family that can be tested and are, of course, willing to donate a portion of their liver to you, I am afraid there is nothing else we can do except wait." Dr. Starkweather voiced.

"Val, we're gonna get through this. All of us. Together. As a family." Jocelyn said wearily, "We will find you a donor. Surely there is someone in the family that-"

"Jonathan." Again, Clary really needed to stop this whole "interrupting" thing. Her mother and fathers head swiveled toward Clary dangerously fast. This was _not_ a good idea, Clary knew. But it was the last option. Jonathan was her father's only hope.

"I'm sorry, who is Jonathan?" Dr. Starkweather butted in rudely. Clary really, really didn't like this doctor.

"Jonathan is my son." Valentine clarified.

Technically, Jonathan Morgenstern was Valentine Morgenstern's illegitimate son. After a year or so of marriage, Clary's father cheated on her mother with "some rando" as Clary had always said and they had a child. Two years later, Jocelyn gave birth to Clary and her father (supposedly) had never cheated on her mother again. One happy family. Clary had only met Jonathan a few times during the holidays but mostly, Jocelyn liked to keep Clary far away from her half brother-what her mother saw as the "thing that had almost destroyed her marriage." Yet, Jocelyn had always been civil with Jonathan and his mother, including the both of them on Valentine's birthday and most major holidays. Clary had never met the adulteress however, that was completely out of the question according to Jocelyn.

Sensing that Jonathan was somewhat of a touchy subject, Dr. Starkweather did his best to be polite with his next words.

"Mr. Morgenstern," he started, "as your physician, I must advise you to seek any form of help that you can. With your sons consent, I would like to get some blood work done to see if he is indeed a match."

Staying silent, eyes locked on his feet, Clary's father nodded slowly.

Sighing, the doctor Clary oh-so-hated made toward the door, "I'll leave you to rest, Sir." he finished, just before shutting the door behind him.

"Dad, you're gonna call him right?" Clary questioned. "He may be your only shot and-"

"Clarissa, no." he said. Hm. So that's where she got it from. "Jonathan wants absolutely nothing to do with me I can assure you."

"But-but this could be it..." Clary trailed off

"Val, she's right." her mother motioned, "You need to call him."

"I would never ask my children to make any sacrifices for me." He bellowed regaining his usual composure and voice almost making Clary believe this was a normal dinner argument. "There will be no contacting Jonathan. I mean it, Clarissa. None what-so-ever." He demanded, eyeing Clary sternly.

"Yes sir." Clary said obediently. Unfortunately, Clary was never all that obedient of a child.


	2. Author's Note

**Hey everyone! Quick authors note, next chapter coming soon. I'm pretty new to this so I almost forgot to mention that I DO NOT own any of the Mortal Instruments characters. And I dunno I think that's all I'm required to say so yeah that's it!**

 **Appreciative of reviews!**

 **Thanks :)**


	3. Chapter 2: The Golden Jerk

Today was important in all aspects.

Today, Clary had to not only convince her brother to pretty much give a piece of himself to their father (which by the way, he didn't even like in the first place) but she also had to do so without her father finding out. Which meant she couldn't tell her mother, which meant she couldn't tell Simon.

Clary was up much earlier than she would have liked to be, on Fridays she didn't have classes so she usually would go out with her friend Izzy on Thursday nights and sleep off a hangover the following morning.

"Rain check?" Clary remembered asking the night before.

"Rain check?!" Izzy had shouted. "Clary it's ladies night at Pandemonium! Rain check?! We always go out on Thursdays!"

"Iz, I just can't tonight." Clary had said, "I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Promise."

"You bet your ass you will." was Izzy's response before abruptly ending the call.

After stepping out of the shower, Clary threw her soaked hair up in a fluffy, white towel and pulled her thin arms through a matching robe. Walking out of her bathroom and into her room, she typed a quick text to Izzy-who was definitely not awake yet-making plans for that night. Clary threw herself onto her large bed, gazing around her room, not yet having the motivation to get ready for the quickly approaching day.

After Clary had gotten into NYU, her father decided to get her a rather large graduation present: an apartment. It was a spacious, one bedroom on East 9th street that she had promptly moved into not even a week after graduating high school. White walls closed up around her, hardwood floors and reflective furniture sat around her bedroom. If it wasn't white, it was mirrored. She was laying on a feather-stuffed, white comforter. Clary had always liked the color white; it was so plain, there was just so much you could do with it. across the hall in Clary's art studio, one would never even be able to guess that those walls were white as well. Her artwork covered the walls and the floors, paint and pencils and colors of all sorts scattered about the mess of a room where she found sanctuary. Originally, Clary had thought that all of the rooms in her apartment would look that way, her art emblazoning every inch of white. However, no piece was deemed acceptable enough to grace the presence of one of her walls, therefore most of her artwork stayed tucked away in the safety of her art room.

The door to her vast, walk-in closet was open, revealing heaps of clothes that had fallen or been tossed there. Designer clothing, expensive jewelry, and shoes that rivaled in price with most in-state tuition resided in that very closet. Growing up around all of her father's money and her mother's expensive taste hadn't spoilt Clary rotten... it had however left her with an exorbitant wardrobe and class.

Turning her head to the right she dared to glance at the clock. It read 7:43 and she had told herself that she would be out the door by 8. Clary dresses herself in a white tank top and dark jeans. Heeled, beige sandals wrapped around her feet and after rushing to dry her hair, she threw her soft, red curls into a messy bun, hanging low on the back of her head, pieces falling gracefully out of it. As usual, she had put on a light coating of powdered foundation. Light brown was shadowed on her lids with the thinnest coat of liner and her usual mascara giving her charcoal lashes. Making a last minute mirror decision she quickly swept a light pink blush onto her cheekbones before winking at her reflection with her usual, unwavering confidence.

Clary snatched up her Louis Vuitton tote before heading out the door and locking it behind her.

Living in Manhattan was always overwhelming; Clary had whole-heartedly preferred Brooklyn-where Simon lived (still with his mother.) However, there was always something magical about a young girl and the heart of New York City. As soon as her delicate hand began its raise into the air a cab pulled up in front of her. Smiling, she stepped in.

"Where to?" the bearded man asked, casting a glance at her in his rearview.

"Ummm..." Clary drawled out trying to buy herself time as she scrambled around the bottom of her purse for the address. Cab drivers were rude and impatient. It gave her anxiety to keep one waiting for anything: directions or money.

Still waiting, he sighed-obviously annoyed.

"I don't have all day, lady."

"Got it! Got it!" she said quickly. Grasping the wrinkled sheet, she blurted out an address on Park Avenue.

Clary hadn't realized how nervous she was. She hadn't seen Jonathan in almost eight years and now she was just supposed to knock on his door and ask him for him liver. There was also the possibility that he wouldn't even recognize her, or even more likely possibility that he would recognize her and he'd kick her out before she could even make her case. They had never fought, her and Jonathan. Mostly because they never spent more than a few awkward hours together, but Clary was always very jealous of him. He was a star quarterback in high school just like their father had been, and not that they had gone to the same school, so she really wouldn't have known, but she could have easily guessed that he was extremely popular.

Fidgeting with her hands and tapping her foot, the cab driver became skeptical of her.

"Hey, you okay back there, miss?" he asked, curious.

Clary's head turned away from the window she was gazing out of and she locked eyes with the man through the rearview mirror.

"Oh, yeah. I'm all good." she replied, her voice soft and reassuring.

"Mhhmm." he mumbled skeptically, not truly believing her words.

It had only been about a twenty minute drive, yet to Clary, it felt like hours. But sure enough, when the cab driver pulled over, he had taken her to a gorgeous, glass apartment building on Park Avenue. She was anxious and nervous and for some reason she couldn't stop picking at her nude finger nail polish. As she took in the dazzling structure through her looking-glass window she found the urge to draw it.

"Hey! You gonna pay me or what?" the bearded cab driver asked rudely, raising his voice.

"Oh! Right. Sorry." Clary mumbled.

She paid for her cab fair and stepped out cautiously. The cab was no longer there to support her in case she decided to turn around last minute, the man behind the wheel of it making that very clear as he sped off to find a new passenger. But Clary knew she had to do this, she had to do this for her father and she wasn't taking no for an answer. She set her shoulders back and pulled herself together, taking one step toward the building and then another.

"Here goes nothing." Clary mumbled to herself, sending silent prayers to Jesus that this whole encounter would go smoothly.

Upon stepping into the lobby of her half brother's luxury apartment building, Clary was in awe. How a twenty-three-year-old man fresh out of college managed to live in a place like this was beyond her. Plush couches and glass coffee tables were ornately placed around the lobby. Sitting in the center of the lobby was a gorgeous, glass desk with nothing but a sleek computer and a black phone on it. An scrawny, elderly man stood behind the glass desk typing slowly but surely on the desktop. Clary assumed he was the next step. Nervously, she stepped forward.

"Excuse me," Clary began, gaining the elderly man's attention immediately. "would you happen to know Jonathan Morgenstern's apartment number?"

"Are you another one of his lady friends?" the man asked, scrunching his nose in almost a disgusted way.

"Er-uh no. No, I'm his sister." she stuttered.

The man's eyes widened.

"Oh! Miss, my deepest apologies." he sputtered, "Mr. Morgenstern's usual guests have already gone up to his place and I just assumed he wouldn't have any visitors."

"Oh, well-"

"Apartment 7D. That will be on the seventh floor, miss."

"Thank you." Clary replied politely.

The man swept his hand out to the right of him, gesturing toward the elevator. Tightening her grip on her tote, she took a breath and walked toward the elevator, pressing the "7" button as she stepped in.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, they came down upon a hand blocking their way, only to open up for the owner of the hand as they had for her. Irritated she wouldn't be alone in the elevator to give herself a quick pep-talk, Clary looked up to see who had interrupted her lonesome. Her bright green eyes instantly met golden ones and she froze. Suddenly she realized she was about to be alone in an elevator with the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on: blonde hair, tanned skin and those gorgeous, golden eyes she couldn't bring herself to look away from. Then it was ruined.

His eyes raked up and down her body like a predator would its prey. And then he did the worst thing he could have done. He smirked at her.

Clary knew that smirk. It was the smirk that every douche-bag in the whole world had perfected, and this one had it down to a tee.

"Hey," he said lazily, smirk still on his face, his eyes finally coming back up to meet her own.

But Clary was no longer enthused with this greek god of a man, he clearly wasn't her type. Her face falling, she replied.

"Hi."

The doors now shut, Clary put a bored expression on her face and stared straight ahead at her reflection in the shiny metal.

"Did you just move here?" he asked, "Because I'm sure I would have remembered seeing you around here."

Clary could here him flirting with her, it was likely however that he didn't care if she lived here or not. And if he did it was only so he could know what door to come knocking on should he decide to get in her bed at a late hour of the night.

"Nope." she replied coldly, crossing her arms over her chest.

This caught him off-guard. As she snuck a quick peek at his reaction, she could have sworn the smirk had momentarily vanished to be replaced by utter shock. However, when he went to stand directly in front of her, the smirk was back again.

"Visiting?" he asked, pretending to be interested.

"Something like that." she responded, meeting his eyes momentarily, only to tear them away just as quickly.

He stood there studying her, likely unsure of why she wasn't already taking her pants off for him.

"What a dick." Clary thought to herself.

Finally, they reached floor seven. And suddenly, Clary couldn't remember what the apartment number was. After stepping out of the elevator, she turned her head both directions, hoping that maybe her brother would suddenly walk out of one of the doors. Clary's elevator buddy chose this moment to speak again.

"Know where your going?" he asked cooly, stepping out onto floor seven as well. Clary thought it unlikely that this was actually his stop; she guessed he was just trying to get one flirtation out of her in order to be satisfied.

"Of course I know where I'm going!" she snapped at him. Clary hated guys like him, completely aware of their looks. So much so that they thought it was okay to be jerks to people because of it.

"Hm. Okay." he said, smirk still going strong. Clary fought the urge to smack it right off his handsome face. The douche-bag then crossed his arms and leaned against the wall behind her.

She shot him a glare and chose to go left. Realizing that he was still posted against the wall, and likely would be able to help her, Clary swallowed her pride and turned on her heel to walk back to him.

"You obviously live here so maybe you can help me find the apartment I'm looking for." she huffed.

He seemed so amused by her which just made Clary even angrier, which in turn seemed to make him even more amused.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said as he placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence, "I don't recall you asking nicely."

Clary huffed.

" _Please_ will you help me find the apartment I am looking for." she spit through her teeth. "Please!" she said again after a moment too long of silence.

Seemingly satisfied, he jumped up.

"To be perfectly honest, I don't live here. Lucky for you, I do know most of the people on this floor." he said shooting her a bright smile after a quick, not unnoticed wink.

Clary thought he looked like the spitting image of a dick-head frat boy. He wore a white Polo button down and khaki shorts. What Clary had always called "preppy boy shoes" were on his feet and a long, NYU lanyard hung out of one of his pockets.

She sighed. "Well would you happen to know where Jonathan Morgenstern's apartment is?"

Realization struck his face and once again his eyes raked up and down her body. He then began to snicker.

"Huh." An even bigger smile lighting up his face. "Funny, you're not really Jon's type." The snickering still hadn't ceased.

"His 'type'?" Clary asked, placing a hand on her hip as her eyes narrowed.

"I mean don't get me wrong, sweetheart, you're somewhat of a treat but Jonathan is more into a-well.. uh..." his smile almost growing impossibly bigger as he struggled to find the right words.

"Jonathan is more into what?" her eyelids had never been this close together with the exception of sleep.

He finally decided to use his hands to make a universal gesture for 'big boobs' on his own chest so Clary could get the picture.

"Ugh! You're a pig!" she said, disgusted.

Clary waved her hand in the air as if to tell him to leave her alone and she started down the right side of the hallway just to get some distance from him. But, unlucky for her, he followed.

"Hey! I'm just trying to help you compete here." he offered, still snickering like a middle school boy on a porno website. "You know, get you familiar with your incoming competition."

Attempting to get him out of the way, Clary walked around him and at a brisker pace.

"I'm not _sleeping_ with him, dumbass!" she practically shouted, "I'm his sister!"

This caught him off guard, causing him to halt. And, since Clary hadn't managed to snake around him, she bumped into his frozen body. His eyes grew wide as they looked at her again, this time not with the same expression they held before.

"Jon doesn't have a sister." he said slowly, as if unsure of himself. "I'm his best friend. If Jon had a sister I would obviously know."

"Half-sister." she explained curtly. "Now which of these stupid apartments is his!"

He didn't speak. Blondie simply pointed at the door they happened to be stopped next to, his eyes never leaving hers. Clary looked at the door. It read '7D' in gold. She took a step back from the man she now realized she was standing too close too-the man that was supposedly her brother's best friend. She took a deep breath and readied herself, suddenly scared all over again. Slowly, she brought her hand up to the door and, closing her eyes tightly before she did, rapped her knuckles against the wooden door three times. Breathing heavily, she took a step back. She heard muffled yelling between a few guys behind the door and she considered turning around. Then she reconsidered because the stunned jerk that was still standing behind her had already seen her.

Suddenly, the door opened.

"Clarissa?"


	4. Chapter 3: Disaster

**well hello there. just wanted to let all readers know that I will be doing my best to update at least once a week. finals are right around the corner so that may be delayed a tad bit... my first two chapters were posted within like 24 hours of each other and I just didn't want anyone to think it was gonna be like that for regular updates. happy reading**

It was like staring at a photo of her father from his 'glory days.' Jonathan was the spitting image of her father, even more so now as opposed to when he was younger because he looked more like the man her father was, compared to the boy he used to be.

"Clarissa?" he said after opening the door.

"Um... hi Jonathan." Clary said, playing with the ends of her hair nervously.

Suddenly, her brother noticed Clary's arrogant, elevator friend.

"Jace?" he said, confusion apparent on his face.

"Didn't tell me you had a sister, Jon." the greek god behind Clary said accusingly.

 _Huh._ Clary thought. _So his name is Jace..._

"Half sister." Clary and Jonathan retorted simultaneously, causing them to look at each other in slight annoyance.

Jonathan was wearing a white, long sleeve tshirt and jeans. Something Clary also noticed about him was that he had sort of adjusted his body so as to block Clary from seeing the inside of the apartment. Maybe he really didn't want to see her, even more so he probably didn't wanna invite her into his apartment. She should have known better.

"What are you doing here?" Jonathan asked awkwardly.

"Um... Well I-uh." Clary fumbled with her words. Granted, she didn't really think she would have gotten this far; she hadn't planned on how she would bring up the topic with him. "I was wondering if we could talk," looking back at Jace she added, "in private."

Jace's eyes narrowed at her and he opened his mouth to likely spew a quick defensive comeback, but before he could speak, another voice came into the scenario.

"Yo! Jon who's at the fucking d-Oh." the fourth party said as he looked over Jonathan's head. "Hi." he said, moving Jonathan's guarding hand away from the door, the new guy opening it welcomingly.

"Hi." Clary said, overwhelmed with the amount of testosterone surrounding her.

A smirk similar to Jace's slid onto his face as he leaned against the door frame opposite to Jonathan.

"What might your name be?" he cooed seductively. Clary rolled her eyes, realizing that all of her half-brother's friends were assholes, causing her to come to the conclusion that Jonathan was probably one as well. Suddenly, Jonathan's hand came up and smacked his dark-haired friend upside his head.

"That's my sister dipshit." Jonathan glared. "Go inside," Moving to glare at Jace as well he said, "both of you."

Shrugging, the dark-haired asshole simply turned on his heel and walked back into the apartment. The light-haired asshole had a different idea.

"Jon if it's alright with you I think I'm gonna stay here and listen to what Red has to say."

"My name is Clary." she shot back at him without thinking, her emerald eyes narrowing and arms crossing.

"Whatever Clara." Jace said, waving her off.

" _Clary_." she bit back.

"Go inside Jace." Jonathan said harshly. Finally obliging, Jace too—though stubbornly—went inside to leave the siblings to their conversation. Jonathan slammed the door harshly, an annoyed look beginning to fade from his hard features. Crossing his arms over his chest, he sighed.

"Is everything okay?"

"Um. Yeah." Clary started, "Well, uh, no. Actually no everything isn't okay." At this, Jonathan sparked up into a strategic position, ready to hear the oncoming news.

"Clarissa what's wrong?" her half-brother asked, his face showing his concern. Jonathan had never called her Clary. It had been a nickname that people close to her always used and, like her father, Jonathan hadn't taken to it.

"It's about our father." she said, lowering her voice as well as her head, knowing that this reason alone could cause him to back out of the situation immediately. She noticed that his face began to contort as if uncomfortable with the subject—which Clary knew he was.

Surprisingly, Jonathan didn't cease the conversation. "What about him?" he asked uncomfortably.

"Jonathan," Clary pleaded, "You and I are practically strangers. You don't know me. And I don't know you. But I've also never asked you for anything in my entire life," tears swam in her eyes, threatening to spill "Our father needs a liver transplant. And I'm asking-no-begging you… Jonathan I'm begging you to please be a donor for him." A long silence followed Clary's speech, making her think he was contemplating going through with it. But then, when she looked into her brother's eyes, she could already see that his decision had been made.

"That man you choose to call you father has never been a father for me, Clarissa." he spat, anger suddenly rising up in him. "I haven't spoken to that pathetic excuse for a man in years! And that is all his fault!"

"Jonathan, that's only because he thought you didn't want-"

"NO CLARISSA!" he yelled. The tears that had once been threatening were far from that now as they cascaded down Clary's rosy cheeks, smearing her mascara. "You're right. We don't know each other. Which means that I don't owe you _or him_ anything."

"Jonathan I-" Clary whimpered.

"Don't come around here again." he finalized, not bothering to look at her as her shut the door behind him rudely.

"What'd she want dude?" Clary heard one Jonathan's friends ask from the other side of the door. If Jonathan had responded, Clary hadn't heard it.

Bawling, Clary took a few tentative steps toward the elevator, attempting to swipe away tears from her soaked cheeks. When the elevator door opened with a cheerful ding, Clary all but fell in, only to continue her crying, leaning against the reflective wall as she took all the support she could get to keep herself steady.

Getting out of the building unnoticed was her goal: it wasn't achieved. Everyone stopped to stare, openly curious, at the pretty red-head weeping. Once she was finally out in the open air, she drew her phone out of her bag.

"Hey bitch." a luscious voice sounded on the other end.

"We're getting wasted tonight, Iz."

 **hope you guys liked it. again, I'm really not gonna be posting this often but I honestly tried to zip through this chapter-which I know is really short-to get to the next one. I'm super hype for chapter 4**


	5. Chapter 4: Brotherly Instincts

**JACE POV**

Tequila Shot.

 _Any girl he wanted._ Jace thought.

Any girl in the fucking world that he wanted could be on her knees in front of him in seconds with that smirk. That signature fucking smirk. The smirk had never failed. Never. Jace thought as Jason Derulo attempted to drown his assessments in the crowed nightclub. Jace, Sebastian, Jonathan, and Alec always came here to pick up chicks, and usually Jace would have one wrapped around his finger by now. They had been here for 20 minutes for crying out loud and he hadn't even made one move.

 _What's wrong with me tonight?_

But the question didn't need an outside answer. He knew what was wrong. It was that red-head from the elevator.

Tequila Shot.

It was that red-head from the elevator who hadn't melted under his golden gaze. It was that red-head from the elevator who hadn't burst into a fit of flirtatious giggles when he threw the irresistible smirk at her. It was that damn, god forsaken red-head from the elevator who also happened to be his best friend's little sister.

Tequila Shot.

"Dude what number was that?" Seb hollered at him over the pounding music, grin on his face and girl on his arm.

"I think that would be his seventh!" Jonathan called back to Sebastian as he pointed to the overturned shot glass, answering for Jace.

Alec simply sat drinking his beer in solace. His boyfriend didn't like him to come out clubbing with them and if you didn't notice by the words "Alec's boyfriend," this wasn't exactly Alec's scene.

Jace's black t-shirt and dark jeans weren't on the floor of some random girl's apartment right now: he was surprisingly still in the club. He couldn't focus. This morning's events had altered his entire existence. This girl didn't want him. Sitting at the bar surrounded by friends that were clueless of his dilemma, he racked his brain trying to think of what had happened. Sure, plenty of girls played the whole hard to get thing, but this was a completely different situation. Not only was Jace sure of this girl's hatred for him, he was also sure that she was completely and utterly off limits. And reason one of why she was off limits was sitting to the right of him.

"Jace!" Jon called out to him over the noise, even though he was sitting no more than a foot away from him. Jace looked over to him expectantly, the alcohol beginning to take its effect. Jon pointed suggestively to a group of girls sitting at a small booth across the club. The girls were eyeing the both of them with flirtatious smiles on their faces. With a quick glance at each other, the duo moved over to the pack of girls, ready to make their moves on the gorgeous and completely willing women in their paths.

 **CLARY POV**

The usual club Clary and Izzy occupied on their weekend nights wasn't the scene for the night. Izzy had heard through a friend of a friend about Pandemonium, a New York nightlife attraction that had "the absolute hottest guys" Izzy had told Clary, completely serious.

Clary, already tipsy from her and Izzy's pre-game at her apartment, giggled uncontrollably in the cab as her slightly more sober friend Izzy gave the cab driver directions to the new club. Clary was scantily clad in a leather, strapless green dress with black stilettos. Izzy had put an unnecessary amount of makeup on her face and her fiery, red hair was flowing freely down her back and around her shoulders. Before Clary had started drinking she had felt skanky, now she felt sexy and free: it was totally the vodka talking. Izzy next to her was vigorously texting on her phone next to her, her long, red nails making light tapping sounds as her fingers flew. Izzy wore a little black number that had about a thousand straps in the back and tall heels that circled around her calves and tied just under the back of her knees. Her gorgeous black tresses that we usually down had been pulled into a tight, high ponytail and her face, like Clary's, was far from natural.

Clary found stepping out onto the curb to be difficult and she clung to Izzy as they made their way to the entrance of the club, not bothering to wait in like considering they were young slutty-looking women who were already drunk. The bouncer allowed them to pass through the doors as if nothing had happened and continued to yell at others trying to smuggle their way in.

Izzy, ready to continue her drinking, waltzed her way over to the bar, Clary in tow still giggling like a school girl. Clary allowed Izzy to roughly sit her down in the bar stool next to her.

"See any victims for the night Clare?" Izzy asked as she herself scoped the club for hot, young men willing to buy her a drink.

Lazily, Clary picked her head up to look around, and just as she was about to relay the bad news to Izzy that she had not in fact found such a victim, her eyes locked with another's sitting a few stools down the bar. Clearly, Clary's staring at the shaggy, brown-haired man caused him to think she was interested because within a few seconds he had picked up his drink and started to slide over to the girls—well, mostly Clary.

"Iz," Clary said in a low voice while nudging her head toward the incoming male with deep, brown eyes.

Izzy looked up and smiled.

"Perfect."

"Hey," he said, staring full-on in to Clary's green eyes, "Can I buy one of you ladies a drink?" he said then, turning his head to make a brief acknowledgment to Izzy.

"Vodka Cranberry." Izzy said with a luscious smile.

Turning to Clary, he asked, "And what about you?"

"The same, please." Clary said sweetly.

After flagging down the bartender, paying for their drinks and asking the two of them the basic get-to-know-you questions, Brad (that was his name) turned to Clary and whispered in her ear.

"Dance with me." Clary was slightly put off because it sort of felt like a demand, but her now completely drunken state didn't care as much as her sober one would have. Putting down her drink and giving him a seductive smile, she allowed him to lead her to the middle of the dance floor in between gyrating bodies and pumping music. Clary found herself getting lost in the music grinding up against what's his face. Unfortunately, she found herself quite quickly after that.

"Get the fuck off my sister dick."

Clary and the guy she was so keenly pressed up against quickly snapped their heads up to see Clary's very angered looking half-brother glaring down upon them.

"Who the hell are you dude?" Clary's dance partner asked as he snaked his hands around Clary's waist tighter.

"I happen to be her brother," Jonathan said pointing his finger at Clary.

"Half-brother." she drunkenly spat, annoyed at his rude and uncalled for intrusion. Gripping the fabric of his silky blue shirt, Clary pulled him back to her to continue her dance. Unfortunately, another party had yet again, interfered.

"Clarissa, get your stuff. I'm taking you home." Jonathan said, a firm hand on her now former dance partner, her brother's obsidian eyes glaring into Brad's.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't even know you."

"Clarissa. Get. Your. Stuff." Jonathan commanded.

"Jon," a new, angelic voice appeared. "What're you doing?" the voice asked lowly.

"This prick here was taking advantage of my sister right in front of me. So Jace, would you be so kind as to detach Clarissa from him."

Shrugging, Jace moved forward to grab Clary.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked. But Jace clearly wasn't a very good listener, because he grabbed ahold of her shoulders anyway, pulling her small frame to his own solid one.

"Dude she doesn't want you to touch her so let her go." Brad said forcefully to Jace. "We were just having a good time."

"Jonathan," Clary began, futilely struggling against Jace's strong arms encircling her, "you're being an idiot. Let it go."

A few more harsh words were exchanged between her brother, Jace and her silky shirt guy before he threw the first punch. Clary probably would have remembered what had happened if she hadn't thrown up over Jace's shoulder. But she was way to focused on cleaning out her stomach to notice the boys, herself, and an Izzy(who had of course interfered) getting kicked out of the raving night club.

She never once felt unsafe however, because those same strong arms held her tightly all night.

 **I am so sorry it took me forever and a day to post another chapter. I really thought that school ending would help me keep up with updating but it totally hasn't. I just started working and I absolutely hate it but I need money cuz I like clothes and yeah. So my summer is about to be beyond stressful which isn't what I want but I also really like this story so I'm going to try to keep updating it super often and make chapters longer cuz I feel like this was low key short. :/ anyway happy reading and I hope to see some reviews**


	6. Chapter 5: Ruining Original Hardwood

**Woah okay so pretty quick update compared to recently. Concerning chapter 4, I know a lot of you said you thought there was a problem with fanfiction or I hadn't fully uploaded—someone actually messaged me about it. WHICH WARMS MY HEART! I'm glad everyone likes it so much and I hope that continues. Anyway back to the point, I had uploaded the chapter about a week ago and there were a bunch of weird slashes and commas and stuff all over my writing and it wasn't readable so I took it down meaning to upload it again but I guess I forgot. So I got home from work and fixed it all and re-uploaded. That was the issue. Im sorry for that. As always, I love to get reviews and I'm totally open to story suggestions, unfortunately I'm pretty stubborn and I kinda already know how I want this story to play out I may or may not take your suggestions 3 thanks again for being patient followers… Happy reading!**

When Clary forced her heavy lids open the next morning, she did it regretfully. The events of the previous night were buzzing around her groggy, hungover brain, fragments missing—and that was likely thanks to the alcohol. She distinctly remembered her platinum blonde headed brother butting in on her night with a lame attempt of brotherly protectiveness that was long overdue. She assumed that it was his apartment she was currently laying in, still her in provocative dress from the night before. In an attempt to not disturb the already incessant pounding of her head, she lifted her upper body slowly in an upright position on the leather couch. Blankets that had likely fallen from her in the night now sat crumpled on the hardwood next to her and the couch.

The pounding continued.

"Clarissa." a familiar voice regarded her, "Glad to see you're up."

Clary turned her head, a tad too quickly in the direction of her half brother's voice. There he was, sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen, scraping a fork against a porcelain plate and shoveling eggs into his mouth.

Clary didn't like eggs.

Doubling over, she blew chunks everywhere on her older brother's hardwood floors. Six times. Jon had immedialty come over to hold her hair back and continued to do so as she dry heaved, her whole body shaking.

In the kitchen, the sound of toast popping out of the toaster could be heard.

"I don't suppose you're gonna eat that toast."

Clary shook her head pitifully.

Wrinkling his nose at his little sister's vomit, Jonathan let go of Clary's hair and helped her lie back down on the couch.

"I'm so sorry, Jonathan." Clary whimpered, although really, she couldn't be bothered by it, all Clary cared about was going back to sleep.

"Let's just clean this up before Jace sees that you yacked all over his floors." Jonathan commented as he made his way to the kitchen again to grab a roll of paper towels.

"This is Jace's apartment?!" Clary said frantically, abruptly sitting up again. Bad decision. Clary bent over again, dry heaving.

"Yes," a new voice said, "It is."

Clary groaned internally. Of course she had spent the night in this bastard's apartment and then managed to defile his gorgeous hardwood flooring.

"Oops." she mumbled more to herself than anyone else.

Walking around the couch, Jace smirked at her and her vomit.

His eyes flitted to Jonathan, "Clean your sister up dude, I've got shit to do."

Clary's head was pounding too hard for her to realize that she had been staring at his shirtless body. Even in her hungover state, she itched to draw him. He was chiseled to perfection, each and every form of him. Unfortunately, he noticed, causing his devilish and crude smirk to only grow. But he didn't say anything, likely knowing better than to toy with his best friend's hungover, half sister.

Suddenly, Clary became acutely aware of Jonathan bent over Jace's vomit-covered floor.

"I can do that Jonathan, you really don't have to-"

"Lay back down Clarissa." he scolded. "Jace, grab that toast and make her eat it, she has nothing in her system right now."

Without a word, a shirtless Jace picked up his cup of coffee, the newspaper, and Clary's toast. Sitting down on the artfully crafted coffee table in front of her, Jace held out the toast for Clary to take.

Shaking her head, Clary muttered "Fuck no."

An amused smile came to Jace's lips as he raised his eyebrows. "You really should eat it, you know," he drawled, seemingly bored, but Clary knew better. He enjoyed toying with her, "If you don't then you'll just feel worse for the rest of the day."

"Why do you care?" she glared.

"I want your skinny ass off my couch." he countered unflinchingly, once again shoving the bread toward her.

Reluctantly, Clary took the toast in hopes he would leave. He didn't. His crown of golden blonde hair stood up on one side as if he had just rolled out of bed. On anyone else Clary thought it would have been super hot, on him it was super annoying. His oddly colored golden eyes stared at her with amusement as she bit into her toast. Jonathan had finished his cleaning and brought her over a cup of water that Clary now took a sip from.

Sitting down next to Jace, Jonathan sighed deeply. A sigh her father would release before scolding her or giving her a life lesson. Fond memories of her father when he wasn't in a hospital bed came to mind. They were however, interrupted.

"Do you remember that guy you were dancing with last night, Clarissa?" he began.

"The one you beat to a pulp for dancing with me?" Clary started, her defenses going up, "Yes I vaguely remember him."

Narrowing his eyes, Jonathan said, "Clary he was defiling you. Groping you. He should know better than to do that to a drunken girl he had just met at the bar."

"Are you being serious, Jonathan!" Clary charged, "Yesterday you told me to stay away from you and that you didn't know me at all. Then, all of a sudden I'm actually having a good damn time and you come in all brotherly and shit and ruin my night!"

"Clarissa-"

"It's Clary!" she yelled, barely realizing that her yelling was making her queazy, but it didn't mater: anger fueled her. "And if you aren't gonna help our dad then I guess I don't want anything to do with you either!"

Clary stood too quickly for her own good, only for her knees to buckle and her head to soar. She'd never been this hungover before. She felt herself beginning to fall but Jace had caught her, keeping her petite self upright.

"Woah," she said queasily.

"Sit back down you're gonna kill yourself" Jace chuckled, though Clary could see concern in his usually indifferent eyes.

His already black eyes growing even darker, Jonathan stood up, looking down upon Clary.

"That man is not-" he began.

"Dude," Jace interrupted, casting Jonathan a look that silenced him," chill out. Take a walk."

Sighing, Jonathan did as he was told, walking toward the front door of Jace's apartment, still in a pair of sweats and a gray t-shirt. Shoes were absent from his feet.

Jace, once again looking toward Clary with concern asked "You ate that toast right?"

He already knew the answer. Clary knew he knew. For God's sake he'd watched her eat the whole thing.

Clary nodded, knowing that he was just trying to make conversation to keep the situation from being awkward. Clary was sure that if her best friend's half sister was sitting hungover on her couch and no one else was around she would be frantic for words as well.

He clearly hadn't decided if he wanted to stay yet. He rooted himself in his standing position, still staring down at her frail figure.

"What do you remember from last night?" he asked, bored and indifference laced in his speech. Despite his tone, Clary sensed that he was actually curious as to what she remembered.

"I think I downed some fruity drink with Izzy at the bar and then went to go dance with Brandon and-"

"Pretty sure his name was Brad."

"Same thing." Clary waved off, rubbing her temples. Jace chuckled at her disinterest in the man. "Whatever so I started having a good time then my dipshit brother—who by the way wants nothing to do with me—decides to beat the shit out of my possible hookup for the night."

When Clary looked back up at Jace, he seemed peeved.

"Did this guy give you that drink?"

"Yeah, so?"

Fuming, and unrightfully so, Jace raised his voice, "So you just accept drinks that could possibly be drugged from strange men all the time then?"

"What?" Clary asked, confused.

"You wouldn't be spilling your guts out all over my living room floor over one drink Clarissa!"

"Clary." she interjected.

"Did you even bother to get to know this guy before he drugged you?"

"He didn't drug me," Clary said incredulously.

"Oh so you're a total lightweight is what your saying?" Jace suggested disbelievingly.

"Izzy and I had taken a few shots before we even got to the club, so no," Clary finished, "I'm not a total lightweight."

"You're an idiot." Jace mumbled, grabbing Clary's empty cup of water as he walked back to the kitchen to refill it.

"And you're a dick." Clary mumbled in defense, wishing she had said it a bit quieter as soon as the words left her mouth. Luckily he didn't seem to hear.

 **JACE POV**

"And you're a dick." he heard her bite back almost inaudibly. Almost.

Jace thought back to last night as he filled her cup in his sink. He thought about how if he'd seen her before this guy had, he probably would have hit on her too, he thought about how he had longed to be the guy holding her hips as she swayed to the music. Then he thought about how bad things had gone from there, from those thoughts.

"Jace dude," Jonathan had said craning his necking the direction of Jace's stare, "What're you staring at?" The scantily-clad blonde wrapped around Jonathan's arm had craned her neck as well.

Suddenly, Jon had seen what Jace had, and he was shooting out of his chair, almost knocking over his poor female companion in the process.

Jace remembered silently rooting for Jon as he trailed after him, it oddly upset Jace that this raggedy-looking guy was rubbing all up on the red-head. It upset Jace even more that she seemed to be having a good time with the very same raggedy-looking guy.

Not that he cared.

As if the night wasn't blurry enough for Jace, the lines blurred even more after Clary threw up on him.

Back to reality, Jace walked Clary's water back to her, wordlessly putting it in her outstretched hand. Her makeup was now splotched on her face, mascara sitting under her eyes.

Her dress still pulled to his attention, he remembered how much it had distracted him last night as he was laying her on his couch. He would have given her his own bed if she hadn't begin to whine about the constant movement, complaining that she was "gonna hurl again." Jace had figured that carrying her up the stairs to his room would have jostled her lurching stomach, plus Jon didn't seem too pleased with Clary staying the night at Jace's anyway. It had just made the most sense really: Jace's place was the closest to the club and Jon was planning on staying the night in Jace's guest room anyway.

As Jace stared down at her sipping gingerly at the cup, he remembered untangling himself from Clary after she had been asleep on the couch for about an hour. He had then retired to his own room, coming down to check on her frequently night, afraid she would get up and leave not knowing where she was.

"You should get some sleep," he regarded.

"Mkay." Clary agreed, curling into a ball. "I think Jonathan should help him," Clary mused obviously half asleep already, "Remind me to call my dad when I wake up."

"Okay, Clary. I will." Jace promised.

He peered down at her, taking note of how red her hair was and how clear and perfect her skin appeared to be. Jace realized that he thought she was pretty. I mean how could he not? She was so delicate and fiery that he couldn't help but be drawn to her.

He knew however that he wasn't interested. He knew she was a faze. The ones that didn't show an interest were always a faze. In fact they usually ended up playing hard to get and then Jace would go out with them for a while before losing interest all together.

Well, he thought, he'd just have to lose interest fast on this one.

She was, after all, completely off-limits.

When Clary finally awakened, Jace was gone. Her head's former pounding had finally ceased and her stomach felt like it could actually keep solid food down. She saw her shoes from last night sitting on the coffee table with a post it under them that read: You wanted me to remind you to call your dad.

 _Hm._ Clary thought. _That's weird. Do boys use post-its now?_

After finally managing to sit up, slide her stilettos back on her feet and push away all of the hair sticking to her face, spit and vomit formerly keeping it pasted there, she stood. Her phone was on the coffee table as well, she hadn't noticed it earlier this morning. She picked it up to check the time, not only to find that it was a little after 2 in the afternoon but also that she had several missed calls from Izzy and five texts from Simon checking to make sure she was still alive. After typing a quick response to Simon, letting him know she was indeed alive, she shot Izzy a text as well saying she would return her call after she had arrived home and was safely in her own bed after a got shower.

Clary lifted her head to survey her surroundings. Jace's apartment was oddly clean—especially for a twenty-some-odd guy. She noticed the lavish simplicity of place, narrowing her eyes at the lack of color. The far wall of the living room cast in lots of light considering the fact that there wasn't a wall there at all but simply paneled windows. She approved of the expansive few of the city despite her disinterest in the decorating. The kitchen was sleek and modern, the time on the oven and microwave both matching the one of her phone.

There was a dining room across from the kitchen, to the right of the living room. A large flatscreen bore over the living room, game consoles neatly lined directly under it

Clary rolled her eyes at the gaming system, "Boys." she muttered disapprovingly.

Her heels clacked on his hardwood as she surveyed the spacious apartment. Only one other room was on this floor and it was hidden behind the staircase. The room was empty save for the sleek, black, grand piano that faced the window wall that was shared with the living room. She raised her eyebrows at the thought of Jace being a pianist: he seemed too uncultured for such a thing.

Clary leaned against the railing as she attempted to get a look of the upstairs. Curiosity overcame her however and she took her first step up the stairs. Halting her from her advance, her phone buzzed.

 **Mom: Going to be at the hospital all day. Maybe you should stop by to see your father if you get the chance.**

Remembering the only reason she had begun associating with her brother again(the only reason she was even in this dickhead's house right now), Clary spun on her heel and made for the door, casting a glance around the lavish penthouse before closing the door behind her.

 **Hope everyone enjoyed that! This is my second longest chapter but I can't help but feel like its short... do they need to be a bit longer? Anyway funny that it took me weeks to upload chapter 4 and hours to upload chapter 5! haha! anyway I really hope everyone is enjoying the story and I'm gonna do my best to update as much as possible cuz I know when** **I'm reading a non-completed fanfic I'm checking the site every night for an update. Anyway hope everyone's summer is going great mine kinda sucks cuz I've been working the whole time. Until next time!**


	7. Chapter 6: Pissing Contest

"And then, I shoved aside that poor flight attendant, ran onto the plane, and scoured all of first class looking for her!" Clary's father bellowed, a smile on his face.

"Only to realize that I wasn't even on the plane," her mother continued for him, grinning from ear to ear, "but I had got off the plane and was currently in a cab on the way to his apartment."

Jocelyn and Valentine Morgenstern stared into each other's eyes as if sharing a secret, smiling faces gazing at one another.

"The woman always had to do it herself," her father relented, "never could let me step up and be the man for her."

"Well I was always better at taking action than you," Jocelyn bragged, a giggle escaping her lips.

Clary had never met a couple more in love than her own parents. Her father loved that story, Clary had heard it countless times. Every time however, she would smile and encourage him to continue his tale.

Valentine was to be released today, against Jocelyn's wishes. She had intended to keep him holed up in a hospital bed in hopes that he wouldn't return to work. When Jocelyn had run the idea by Clary two days ago, Clary had agreed it would be a smart decision considering his love for work—even in inopportune times. In the least, she had hoped that at seeing her and his wife's adamance about his staying, Valentine would take time away from work, especially considering the inevitable death sentence that had been given to him.

Valentine didn't decide to take time off work.

In fact, Clary sensed he would be throwing a fit later about how he had missed work yesterday, claiming that his Monday meetings were always of vital importance.

"Mr. Morgenstern." Dr. Starkweather said.

"Dr. Starkweather." her father acknowledged as he sat up from the bed, ready to leave it.

Clary's phone went off in her coat pocket, she pulled it out to find a quick text from an unknown number

 **Unknown: This is Jace, I wanted to make sure you got home okay.** Rolling her eyes, she turned off her phone and put in back in her pocket. She didn't have time for her brother's dick-head friends checking up on her. She was perfectly capable.

"How are we feeling today, Valentine?" Dr. Starkweather asked, drawing his stethoscope from around his neck.

"I'm feeling like I should go home." Clary's father deadpanned, still ticked off that he had to undergo discharge vital checks.

"And take a deep breath," Dr. Starkweather sighed. Valentine did so.

Taking Clary aside, Jocelyn kept her voice low.

"Clary honey, I'm worried for your father. He needs that transplant and I know that you've gone against his wishes and spoken with Jonathan." she confessed.

"Mom," Clary began, grasping for words, "I'm so sorry I know he didn't want me to-"

"Nonsense Clarissa," her mother interrupted, "you did the right thing. You're doing the right thing."

"Mom…" Clary trailed off, unsure how to break the news to her fragile mother, "he-uh, he said no."

"Clary dear, don't you see? You have to keep trying." her mother encouraged. "You cannot take no for an answer. Jonathan I'm sure has felt jaded by his father all his life, and it very well might be that Jonathan is jealous of you. He may truly feel that you took his father away from him. Lord knows he blames me for that."

"Mom you know that I want this for Dad. But, I just don't think Jonathan will be up for it."

"Did you hear that Jocy?!" Valentine exclaimed. "I'm free!"

"That's wonderful honey! Let's go home." she said to him, smiling. Turning once more to Clary, she said, "You must not fail, Clarissa. Do this for your father."

As Clary looked at her thrilled father and encouraging mother, she knew she would. She would do this for her family. Jonathan however, was not going to give in easily.

Clary had class later that afternoon. She walked, sketchpad in hand toward a gorgeous, glass building for "Sketch" as her professor called it. Today she wore a grey, tank dress and Jimmy Choo heeled sandals, a tan trench coat wrapped around her. Her flaming red hair hadn't been given a thought upon leaving the house, as she struggled to carry her bags, she messily threw the locks into a bun to keep it out of her way.

She ascended the many stairs to the towering building, seeing a few of her classmates running late as well. Scampering into the large classroom as the professor began his usual spiel, Clary felt her phone buzz once again. Jace had texted her again, asking her if she was okay. Rolling her eyes, she turned it off. What a nosy boy, she thought.

After a few minutes, Clary had become completely caught up in her work. So much so, in fact, that she didn't even seem to notice that many moments ago when she walked in, she had sat down next to Will. Will was the 'class hottie.' All of the girls—and some of the guys—had dubbed him the most attractive male art major studying at NYU. He usually sat alone, a welcoming smile however was always on his face and every now and then he would interject a witty comment during the professor's lecture. At this, all the girls(sometimes including Clary herself) would burst into a fit of giggles.

"Is that your boyfriend?" a voice far too close to Clary's ear asked. She jumped.

Turning her head into the direction of the questioning voice she mumbled out, "Huh?"

Her emerald orbs met Will's deep midnight blue ones. He was extremely attractive, but Clary had never gotten the chance to admire him up close. She had to regretfully resign that he was just as cute up close as he was far away.… he was so damn hot.

Clary's thoughts drifted to how she had only met one person who she ever thought looked just as attractive up close as they did far away. Becoming annoyed with her thoughts, she mentally eye-rolled Jace out of her mind.

 _Dick._ She thought.

Smiling, Will asked again, "Your drawing, is it your boyfriend?" he gestured toward the sketchpad in front of her.

Startled, Clary found that the same person previously running amuck in her brain was now smirking back at her on the page before her.

"No." Clary dismissed quickly, flipping the sketchpad shut defiantly. "He's not my boyfriend."

"You're awfully jumpy aren't you?" Will chuckled.

Regaining composure, Clary laughed softly. "Sorry," she replied, "It's just been a long day."

His eyes still gazing into hers, his smile grew soft, eyes filled with something Clary couldn't place. Clary glanced to his sketchpad to see what he had been drawing: a landscape, and not a very good one. This puzzled Clary, most people in this class were either extremely talented or extremely devoted to their work. Maybe he was just the latter.

"So what does your boyfriend look like?" Will inquired.

Blushing, Clary replied, "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Interesting." Will said cryptically, his smile growing. After continuing to stare into Clary's eyes for a few more breathtaking moments, he returned back to his work.

Was he flirting with Clary? She was pretty sure that he was, but then why hadn't he asked her out after coming to know she didn't have a boyfriend.

Refusing to touch her sketchpad after seeing the all too familiar golden locks on it, Clary fiddled with her pencil for the duration of class, suddenly nervous about her current predicament with Will. When class finally ended, Clary all but jumped out of her seat to pack up her belongings and race out the door.

"I'll see you around Clary!" she heard Will shout behind her, ending his statement with a chuckle. At his acknowledgement of her, several girls turned their head to see her just before she slipped out the door.

 _I need coffee_ , she thought. So, briskly walking down the street, she made her way toward the Java Jones just down the road. Clary loved a late afternoon latte, despite the fact that she knew it would ruin her dinner.

She was pleased to find that there was barely anyone in the small shop, save a few people there for the late afternoon open mic. After ordering her coffee, she sat patiently waiting in an overstuffed orange and yellow chair, listening to a large, pale blonde boy rhyming about his ex. _Poor sap_ , Clary thought to herself ruefully.

"Poor sap," said a strong, silky voice next to her.

Clary jumped at the voice, pissed that she was so on edge today—even more pissed that men kept talking to close to her delicate ears. Swiveling around, she met the eyes of golden everything. Jace was standing there, a latte that read "Clary" in his hand and a smirk on his face. He wasn't looking at her though, Jace's humored eyes were trained on the wailing guy on stage.

"Maybe he's going through a really rough time and he doesn't want people making fun of him while he pours his heart out." Clary said smartly with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh please," Jace said, finally resting his eyes on her and moving to hand her her coffee, "you were thinking the same thing." Clary took the coffee from his hands, suddenly feeling smaller than usual, him standing next to her sitting figure.

"What're you doing here anyway?" Clary wondered aloud rudely. "Stalking me?"

"Well," Jace began, his eyes narrowing, "you didn't respond to my texts today, and I was worried. So naturally when I was walking down the street to find you wander into this place," Jace looked around distastefully, "I came in to ask you if your phone was broken or you just didn't care about a worried friend." Glancing at her, he added, "And I like coffee."

He seemed kinda pissed now that Clary really looked at him. Now it was her turn to narrow her eyes.

"We aren't friends." she countered, crossing her legs and taking a tentative sip of the hot caffeine.

"Oh I didn't realize that not-friends let other not-friends spend drunken nights on their couch at random." he bit back.

"Maybe your just a really nice person." Clary offered suggestively.

His eyes still narrow, he deadpanned, "I'm not."

"Well then it must have been you simply caring for your best friends half-sister like any good friend would do."

"Okay," Jace said rather off-putly, "Then I guess that's what you are, my best friend's brat sister." His arms were now crossed and he still towered over me. A new poet, a small black haired girl with lots of blue eyeliner, was now on stage.

Clary was shocked at how Jace seemed to be handling this situation. It felt like he wanted to be Clary's friend, at least he had made it clear he was upset at how little she had made their relationship had been made out to be. But that's all they were. Clary really didn't give a damn about him and his hot-shot attitude.

"Speaking of which, where is Jonathan this afternoon?" Clary needed to focus on what was really important. Her father.

His mouth twisting with annoyance, Jace spat "I dunno, probably off with some girl for the night."

"Will he be back at his apartment tonight do you think?" Clary pressed.

"I don't know," Jace mused suspiciously, "Why do you ask?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Clary turned back to face the stage where the gothic-looking girl was finishing her set.

"Jonathan seemed pretty shaken up that other day when you came to his place," Jace continued, "What were you all talking about anyway?"

Turning her head to Jace and giving him a sickly sweet smile, she said, "Family stuff."

"Clary?" she heard another voice call. Simultaneously, her and Jace whipped their heads in the directing of the voice that resided in a gray t-shirt and light wash jeans by the counter. It was Will from her art class. Of course he's here right now, Clary thought.

"Hi Will," Clary waved. He began to make his way toward them and Clary's face began to heat. Thankfully, the lighting in their section of Java Jones was almost nonexistent due to the broken fixture above. He probably wouldn't notice.

Regarding Jace with curiosity, he introduced himself, "Hey, I'm Will." He took his hand out of his pocket to offer it to Jace, but it was left hanging there, leaving awkward tension between them all.

"Jace." he replied cooly.

Giving Jace a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, Will turned his attention back to Clary, "Funny seeing you here. Can I get you another cup of coffee?" he offered.

"No, I'm good actually," she attempted to say casually, but she was uncomfortable. Standing up, she smoothed out her dress quickly, and bent down to grab her bag, "Believe it or not, I was just leaving."

Turning her body toward Jace, she gave him a tight smile. "Bye." she rushed. But Jace wasn't paying attention, his cool gaze was trained on Will, still in a defensive stance. Clary began her walk toward the door, but Will called to her again.

"I'll walk you out." he began.

"No, I'll walk you out." Jace volunteered, moving to block Will from beating him to the door.

"We'll both walk her out," Will smiled, then, looking at Clary he said, "you can never have too many escorts."

Walking faster now, and not wanting to get in the way of the boys' pissing contest, she lunged for the door to push it open. Jace however, reached his hand out in front of her and made to hold it for her, all but slamming it in Will's face as he walked out after them. _What the hell_ , Clary thought.

"Are you walking back home, Clary?" Will asked, a too-nice smile on his face. Not wanting the both of them fighting to be the one to walk next to her or the first to put their jacket over a puddle in front of her, Clary scrambled.

"Uhh-no… I-um, I was just gonna hail a cab actually."

"I'll get you one." Will said decidedly, moving out toward the road with his hand in the air. It was almost five and there was no way he was gonna be able to get her a cab.

"That's really okay—" she began. Suddenly, cab pulled up next to Will and he opened the door, motioning her inside.

"Here ya go." he said, smiling triumphantly at her, glancing slightly at Jace.

Awkwardly, Clary stepped toward the cab.

"Mind your head," Will said softly to her.

After ducking in, she began to thank Will through the rolled down window, but she was cut short.

"You probably shouldn't be in a cab all by yourself." Jace chimed quickly, stopping Will from closing the cab door and moving in beside her all in one swift motion. Clary tried to interject but Jace hollered out a quick address to the driver and he sped off. Clary could just make out Will's shocked and pissed-off face as Jace rolled the window up in his face before they zoomed into traffic.

Visibly relaxing, Jace gave Clary a smug smile.

"That guy seems weird." he said seriously.

 **Guess who's back. back again.**


	8. Chapter 7: Not Friends

Shell-shocked at the events that had just taken place, Clary stared ahead at the front window of the taxi. Jace's long legs sprawled out upon the cracking leather in the seat next to her. He was literally twiddling his thumbs and humming an upbeat tune to fill the silence.

After a moment, Clary realized Jace hadn't given the cab driver her address.

"Where are we going, Jace?" she demanded, swiveling her head toward his relaxed figure next to her.

"My place." Jace hummed, not looking up from his rapidly moving fingers.

"Well I need to get back to my apartment which is that way." Clary said harshly, pointing to a street they quickly passed by. Bustling New York City was thriving in the rush hour traffic, the sun behind buildings beginning to cast faint shadows across the pavement.

Jace's phone went off before he could throw back a snarky retort. Without looking at the Caller ID, he answered swiftly.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end was inaudible to Clary as the conversation continued. The way he held that smirk on his face suggested that the call was from a girl. He was being rather short with her however, curt yes or no's came out of his mouth every few seconds with the occasional, cryptic maybe. Huffing in her seat, Clary crossed her little arms and stared out the window, people watching as the car came to a stop at a red light. There was a little girl walking in between what appeared to be her two older brothers. They were holding either of her hands and attempting to swing her between themselves just as Clary's parents had once done for her. The obvious parents of the children were walking close behind, hand in hand themselves, smiling at their youthful delight. Clary had always wondered about Jonathan, about what he would have been like if he were her mother's son as well as their fathers. She wondered if he would have picked on her or been supportive and protective.

Clary was snapped out of her reverie by a hoarse voice.

"Twenty-two fifty." The gruff man driving spat out, glaring at Jace and Clary through the rearview. Clary reached for her purse to pay the poor guy. However, her efforts were useless as Jace had already fished thirty dollars out of his back pocket and handed it to the driver.

"Keep the change," he said around his phone. Now taking his empty hand, he placed it in Clary's and pulled her out of the cab and toward the large brick apartment complex in front of them. He continued his conversation with a low voice, yet continued to drag Clary into the structure. When Clary turned to look for the the family walking down the sidewalk, she found that they had already made it around the next block.

Jace hauled Clary into the elevator the moment they walked in the door and finished his phone call. As he pressed end, Clary briefly saw the name Kaelie appear on the screen before the phone turned dark again. Pressing button number four, Jace released Clary's hand and sat back against the wooden elevator walls.

"Does Jon stop by often?" Clary wondered aloud, "To your apartment, I mean."

"Sometimes," he offered cryptically. Clary glanced at him, raising her eyebrows at his mysteriousness. He however, wasn't looking at her, his eyes were glued to the door in front of them, never wavering.

Jace POV

He had to strain his eyes to keep from looking at her. Fighting the urge to gaze at her was so difficult, but as the elevator doors opened slowly—too slowly—he felt a sense of pride for having evaded her piercing look. Jace grandly waved his hands out in front of him, gesturing for her to exit the elevator. She rolled her eyes and walked toward his apartment door, standing next to it while she waited for him to unlock the door and invite her inside.

The silence between them was unbearable to Jace, but Clary likely didn't notice. He fiddled with the key as he shoved in it the lock and turned the knob quickly, wanting to get out of the silent hallway.

After stepping aside to allow Clary in the door first, he followed just a step after, throwing his keys onto the nearby table as he passed over the threshold. He began to take off his overbearing jacket in the heat of his apartment, casting a glance at Clary as he did so.

She looked kinda pissed.

"What?" he asked stupidly,

"What do you mean 'what?'" she chided back, her small hands resting on her hips.

"Um, I mean what? What's wrong?" he asked, likely sounding even dumber. He mentally scolded himself for coming off as a complete idiot, no wonder she didn't swoon.

She sighed exasperated, "One of my friends from class was just trying to be nice and you were bring an asshat to him!" Her green stare still fixed on him she continued, "Not shaking his hand! Shoving a door in his face! Jumping in _MY_ cab!"

Oh. So that's why she was mad.

"Who do you think you are?!" she pressed.

Angry now, Jace straightened himself, ready for this fight after years of his own arguments. "I'm your brother's best friend? Remember?"

"Exactly! You have no connection with me, we aren't friends!" she said back, her voice raising a few octaves.

"Yeah you made that very clear!" he said, raising his own voice at her. "Maybe I was just looking out for you since you clearly are a clueless incompetent who doesn't understand their 'friends' intentions." he tore into her, air-quoting the word friends.

"And what are you implying?" she asked, crossing her arms defensively.

"I'm implying," he began, "that this scumbag Will doesn't wanna be your friend Clary! He just wants to get in your pants! They all do!"

"Well why do you care that's none of your business!" she shrieked.

"Oh, I don't care!" he started, a sick chuckle following his hurtful words, "Only reason why I righteously intervened was because you're too stupid to see for yourself that not everyone around you just wants to be your friend and buy you another fucking coffee!"

"I can take care of myself!" she charged back, hatred in her eyes.

"Well that's just fucking bullshit!" he claimed. Before she could get another word in he added, "If you could take care of yourself then you wouldn't be alone at bars getting wasted with strange men and spending the night on the couch of a person that YOU HAD JUST MET THAT DAY!"

"FUCK YOU!" she screamed, turning back toward the door. Suddenly, Jace felt remorse set in. He couldn't believe the things he had just said to her: _who calls a beautiful girl like that a drunken whore?_ He didn't mean for it to sound that way.

"Clary wait," he tried, stepping in front of the door she was pulling open.

She opened her mouth to retort. "Get away fr—" he lost it. He couldn't think of anything else he wanted to do more or anything else he could say to make her stay so he did it. In a swift, very Jace-like fashion, he pushed her away from the door with his imposing hand on her hip, his other hand coming up to cup her face and he kissed her.

CLARY POV

"Get away fr—" but she was cut short.

Jace pushed her delicately away from the door and kissed her. She was shocked, but not shocked enough to freeze her body. Natural instinct overtook her and she kissed him back, allowing him to turn her and back her up against the wall next to the now ajar front door. After she was safely against the wall, Jace broke away, only for a second, bent down and picked her up by the backs of her thighs. Lightly, he playfully shoved her back against the wall and continued there activity.

Oh my god he's a good kisser she thought vaguely. She couldn't seem to get her mind on track, he was intoxicating. Keeping his left hand steady on her thigh, he moved his right up to the side of her face, grasping her red locks, almost needfully.

What the hell am I doing? she thought. But she couldn't regain focus, she was so wrapped up in him and in this moment that she couldn't even remember to breathe.

"Jace!" a distinct voice called from down the hall. With lightning speed, Jace dropped Clary back on her feet and backed as far away from her as one step would allow. Wiping his hand across his mouth to rid it of Clary's lipstick, he took a strong, oddly steady step forward.

 _How could he be so put together?_ she thought.

Clary couldn't even seem to stand up on her own after what had just occurred and he seemed strangely… calm—especially after almost getting caught by Jon who was now walking in the door in front of Jace.

"And so I said—" he stopped in his tracks at the sight of Clary standing in Jace's apartment. 'What're you doing here?" turning to Jace, "What is she doing here?"

Casually, Jace said, "Saw Clary in some coffee shop a few blocks over and she followed me back here, hoping you would stop by," he shrugged. Leaning in to John's ear with that damn smirk he whispered (a tad too loudly,) "Quite the stalker that one is."

Narrowing her eyes at him, Clary turned to face her brother's expression, "Yeah, um. I wanted to talk."

Narrowing his own eyes—must be a family trait—he replied coldly, "You know what I'm going to say Clarissa. No. Now stop bothering me and my friends."

"Oh believe me," she said before she could stop herself, "I wasn't bothering Jace."

Catching his eye, and realizing what she had just said, Clary's face turned red at the smirk Jace was miserably failing to hide. Luckily, Jon was oblivious.

"I'm leaving." he stated, his cold gaze never leaving Clary. "I'll see you tomorrow Jace." And he walked straight out the door, not looking back.

Before Jace could get any more wild ideas, Clary gathered herself, "I should go to." Jace's face fell.

"No you don't have to," he offered, taking a tentative step toward her worry etched on his face. "You can stay."

Knowing that she was about to get trapped by his golden gaze, she looked anyway. And just as she had presumed: trapped. His golden orbs seemed so genuine and sincere that she thought she wouldn't be able to stop herself from leaving. He took another slow step toward her, as if trying to not scare off an animal. Reaching his hand out to play with a red curl next to her face, he leaned in closer, "Stay." he offered, however it sounded kind of like a demand. Clary could picture what she looked like to him now, her eyes lost in his, her bottom lip quivering under his heady gaze, her inner battle as she tried to force her body not to react. She was prey to him: a helpless, wounded animal.

Suddenly, something he said to her came back into her immediate thoughts: _"'He just wants to get in your pants! They all do!'"_

Snapping out of her reverie, she stepped back, flipped her hair out of her eyes and regarded his attractive self with a newfound disgust. "I think I'll go." she started, reaching for the door knob. Looking back at his dumbfounded gaze she added, "Otherwise I might do something stupid since I can't take care of myself and men only want to get in my pants." Slamming the door behind her, she punched the elevator button viciously and stepped in quickly upon its arrival. As the doors began to close, she eyed Jace's apartment door, praying he wouldn't follow her. If he was attempting to follow her, he was too late as the elevator doors slid to a close with finality.

 **I should really update this more regularly. I'm so sorry to all readers for my lack of updates. I know if I was reading, I'd be waiting impatiently for the next chapter night by night. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and readers! Hope everyone enjoys this chapter! ;)**


	9. Authors Note 2

Oh gosh... it's been so long since I have uploaded on this story and I would just like to apologize for that sincerely to anyone that has been wanting more. Honestly I don't have an excuse I just stopped writing it and starting working on other stuff/got caught up in my busy life etc... This is unfortunately not the next chapter but I have had a majority of the next chapter written for quite some time and I plan on finishing it soon, hopefully it will be uploaded within the week. My rough draft plan is to have about 18 chapters for this story, maybe more depending on how it goes. Happy reading, hope to get some reviews for the upcoming next chapter very soon :)


	10. Chapter 8: Sober Girls Only

Clary had an early class the next morning but she knew she wouldn't be going. Her mind was still reeling over the past Jace events and her emotions were everywhere. She had called Isabelle and told her everything as soon as she got back to her apartment.

"So let me get this straight," Isabelle said on the other end of the phone. Clary had her phone on speaker laying next to her head as she ate ramen noodles and watched Weeds. It was almost 6 o'clock and Clary and Isabelle had been on the phone for hours talking about the events that had taken place with Clary and Jace's "fling-thing" as Iz had put it.

"Two super hot guys fought over who was gonna pay for your cab and then one of them took you back to his apartment where you hooked up and then you left, leaving him speechless and wanting more?" she questioned.

"Iz, that's so not what—" Clary explained.

"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED CLARY!" she squealed on the other line. "This is fucking amazing. I swear you must have picked up some new moves or something."

"Isabelle—" she started, but the overexcited shrieks drowned out Clary's small voice.

"So, which one are we picking then?"

"Isabelle! Listen to—"

"I like Jace right now," Isabelle mused. Clary could picture her now in front of a bulletin board with pictures on it, comparing Jace and Will. "He seems like he can really take charge which will be good for your sex life."

"ISABELLE!" Clary accused as she sat up abruptly, knocking over her half-finished bowl.

"But Will…" she continued, "I don't know I just feel like he's about to make a comeback like he really just seems like a fighter to me. There's no way he'll let Jace have you without putting up a good fight. Unfortunately for him he's one of those artsy types so he's probably much more gentle in the sack which for me would just be agonizing. Ugh."

"Hey!" Clary called, standing to pick up her mess, "I'm one of those artsy types."

"Yeah but it's just totally different for men Clary. Artsy men are all caring and sensitive, while artsy women are wild and up for new things. Speaking of which, we should go out tonight." Isabelle offered.

"Maybe, I don't know if I'm really in the mood." Clary mumbled.

Clary could practically see Isabelle rolling her eyes into the phone right now.

"Clary, this is not a problem you know. Two attractive men fighting over you is never an issue."

"Yes it is too! I'm not interested in either of them and I just want them off my back!" Clary defended.

Isabelle laughed loudly on the other end of the call, hollering with her humored self. "Clare, if you weren't interested in either of them then we wouldn't have had a detailed re-enactment of your entire afternoon and a descriptive summary with plot notes. Your problem is, is that you ARE interested and you just don't know what to do about it."

"That is not true!"

"Okay, then why aren't you interested in them?" Iz offered.

"Well, for starters, Will is in an advanced Art class and knows nothing about sketching what so ever." Clary said.

"Is that it?"

"No!" Clary said, her voice raising, "He also creeps me out and he hits on everyone in class, even the teacher."

"Okay fine, Will's a creepy man-whore." Isabelle agreed. "Now what about Jace?"

"What about Jace?" Clary mumbled.

"What's wrong with him?!" she all but screamed into the phone. "You said you weren't interested so what's his deal?"

"Isabelle," Clary sighed, "he's Jon's best friend."

"That's hardly a reason, Clary."

"Reason enough." Clary said with a finality that clearly told her the conversation was over. "Besides," she continued, "I want nothing to do with Jon. I just need him to help my dad out and then I'm done with him all over again."

"Good luck with that girl. Jon hates Valentine and you know it." Isabelle said truthfully, knowing that no amount of encouragement would actually encourage her at all.

Suddenly, Clary's phone went off. Peering over to see who it was, Clary gasped.

"What?" Isabelle asked curiously, hearing her note of shock.

"He texted me." Clary said nervously.

"Jon?!"

"No. Jace." Clary replied. She nervously bit her lip and pushed the phone away, too afraid to read the message.

"Oh my God he's already back for more!" Isabelle yelled excitedly. "Well?! What'd he say? What'd he say?"

Clary could hear her jumping up and down with excitement. It had been a long time since Clary had had a serious boyfriend and boys were never really on Clary's mind anymore, much to Isabelle's dismay.

"I'm not opening it." Clary stated.

"Oh yes you are!" Isabelle commanded through the small glass screen. "Clary! Don't you see!? This could be your answer!"

"Isabelle for that LAST DAMN TIME, I am not looking for a boyfriend right now!" Clary called out, moving her mouth close to the phone so Isabelle could hear her better.

"Not that you idiot!" she said exasperated. "He can help with Jon!"

"What do you mean?" Clary asked, her interest now peaked. "How could he help me get to Jon?"

"Clary! Oh my God I just have to do everything for you!" Isabelle sighed heavily. "Clary, once he's got with you, he'll do anything to make sure that Jon does the transplant. They are BEST FRIENDS Clary! Jace can convince him of anything!"

"So… what?" Clary thought aloud, finally catching on. "You want me to fake date Jace so he can make Jon help my dad? And then dump him when it's all over and done with and I don't need Jon anymore?"

"Yes, Clary!" she said. "And maybe you'll get laid in the process so it's a win-win."

Clary giggled at Isabelle's incessant scolding on Clary getting laid.

"Okay, Iz," Clary said, picking up her phone and opening Jace's text. "Operation Get Jon Through Jace has officially commenced."

JACE POV

Jace was worried.

After the recent events he was unsure of Clary's feeling toward him, and this in itself was a problem. Jace was never unsure of a woman's interest in him.

But it wasn't just that. Jace was worried he had come on too strong and scared her, so he texted her, asking if she had gotten home safe. He knew it was a lame excuse to talk to her, but at this point, he didn't care. After all, putting the moves on Jon's little sister wasn't gonna have a good outcome unless she reciprocated.

 **Safe and sound.** She responded quickly.

Jace didn't know if that was good or bad. He decided to go out on a limb and say good.

 _ **good im glad**_ he typed back.

"Shit that sounded stupid," he mumbled, scolding himself. He watched patiently as he saw the check and time next to his text, showing she had read it. Waiting for a whole three minutes, he glared at his phone, attentively waiting for the three dots to pop up. They didn't.

 _ **do you have plans tonight?**_ he asked.

"Oh my God! What the fuck was that?! She's gonna think you're an idiot—"

 **Planning on going to some new club with my friend Isabelle. Wanna come?**

Smiling, Jace texted Sebastian, knowing he'd need someone to keep Clary's friend occupied.

 _ **dude, wer goin out tonight. get over here.**_

CLARY POV

"I thought you told him to come tonight?" Isabelle shouted over the eccentric music of the new nightlife scene they had found a little over a month ago.

It was some strange place called Evervecense where brightly colored haired women would hang from the ceiling on silks and all the liquor was colored neon green or orange. Clary's sparkly gold mini skirt and tight leather bra that she barely got away with as a shirt. It made her look as though she should be up on a silk herself. She kicked back another vile of shimmering green liquid the bartender had handed her and gazed through the crowd of strange people doing lines of coke on the tables and furiously making out to the music. Everyone was dancing save her and Isabelle, and 4 odd-looking men on the other side of the club who were dragging their hands across one another's bodies. This was a very strange place.

"I did." she called back, shrugging her shoulders. "Guess he found better plans."

"Well now what are we gonna do about Jon?" Isabelle asked.

"Something to worry about later…" Clary mused, taking Isabelle's hand and leading her out to the center of the crowd. Immediately, two very thin boys had begun to dance around them, as if they were asking for permission to approach. Clary scanned her eyes over the one with rainbow colored roots and brown hair, considering whether or not this would be a terrible idea. Isabelle however made the decision for her as she lunged for his friend who had a belly button piercing he showed off with his crop top. Clary knew they weren't exactly her and Izzy's types, but they were just here for some fun anyway. It didn't really matter.

After almost two hours of dancing, Clary gave Isabelle the signal that it was time to get takeout and go home. The shimmering gold paint Isabelle had decorated Clary's eyes with had stayed intact perfectly despite the perspiration that was now developing on her scalp. She needed a double cheeseburger and a bath.

They exited the raving building as more eccentric looking people bustled to get in. Crossing a few busy streets until they reached a vacant one that would have been terrifying empty if it weren't for Taki's.

Taki's was possibly the best fast food joint in the whole city. It was however in a shitty building off West Porter Street which was filled with run-down vacancies. Clary craved their double cheeseburgers after a wild night of being out with Isabelle, but tonight she also craved pancakes. She knew she would walk in there and get both.

"Hey Jordan!" Izzy waved as they walked in. Jordan worked late and long hours at Taki's to pay for his classes at the local community college. Jordan was the lead singer of Simon's start-up garage band that hadn't had a real gig since the high school talent show. He often invited the girls out to parties or told them about new restaurants that opened up around town. He was a close friend.

"Hey Iz! Hey Clary!" he hollered from the kitchen. "Wild night out order or _really_ wild night out order?"

"Really wild night out order," Clary answered, sitting herself down on one of the bar stools, Isabelle joining her.

"Gotcha. Hey my shift's about to end so I can walk you guys home if ya want?" Jordan offered as he started up the stovetop.

"Sure that'd be great Jordan," Izzy smiled. Turning to Clary, she whispered "you know he's just gonna end up dragging us to some terrible party and make us walk ourselves home when we wanna leave early."

Clary smirked, knowing she was right as this was a classic Jordan move—dragging other people to random parties. One time he brought the band to some famous actors party in SoHo and they all got kicked out for breaking some B list celebrity's $36,000 mirror. Clary and Izzy still had trouble believing that one.

Sure enough Jordan was begging them to make one quick pit stop with him at his "friend's" twenty-eighth birthday banger. And sure enough, the girls relented, knowing Jordan would see someone he knew and probably ditch them within a few minutes anyway.

When they entered the gorgeous, brass doors of the lavish four-story townhouse, Clary wasn't expecting what her eyes saw. Sitting on a sofa in the foyer with two girls perched on top of him, was Jace. The blondes on either thigh were each pouring golden liquid down his throat from a large glass bottle that they passed back and forth between themselves.

Izzy nudged Clary when she saw it. "Clare."

"I see it." Clary said, watching his oblivious, drunken fun, shell-shocked by the door. Jordan, as expected, had run off.

"Guess that plan really is out." Izzy sighed.

"No." Clary said alarmed. Whipping her head to face Isabelle, fear crossed her face. "He's my only shot Iz." Turning back to rest her eyes on the golden angel boy, a determined pair of green eyes honed in on the expensive bottle the playboy whores were messing with. "This better work." she mumbled.

Taking a breath and a forceful step forward, Clary made her way past drunken party guests, up to Jace and his bitches. Stopping directly in front of them, she bravely snatched the bottle out of blonde bitty number one and raised it to her lips, tipping it all the way back so she could guzzle the contents. She waited for the room to stop dead and begin cheering her on screaming 'chug chug chug,' but the music kept playing and the room did not quiet. The only people's attention she had in the whole room were Isabelle's, the bitty one, bitty two, and most importantly, Jace's.

After she could officially take no more, Clary uprighted her head and pulled the bottle away from her mouth. Shaking her head furiously from the awful taste, she locked eyes with Jace and smiled softly.

Placing the drink in the open hand of bitty number two, she replied, "Sorry, I was thirsty." Never taking her eyes from Jace's awestruck ones.

Turning quickly, she drunkenly skipped into the next room over where people were doing body shots off of a very hammered woman who looked like she was gonna yack.

Knowing Jace's gaze was still on her, Clary looked down at her exposed belly button and smiled.

 _This'll drive him mad_ she thought to herself.

Jumping up on the table where the body shots had previously commenced, Clary bent over and gripped a bottle of tequila resting in a dark-haired boys hands.

He looked up at her and asked "Can I help you, sweetheart?"

Pulling tighter at the bottle so his face was inches from her, she replied, "You're taking a body shot off of me. Now."

"Yes I am." he said immediately, his free hand grazing her waist as he helped her lie on the table.

He poured it quickly and just as he was about to bend down, a voice interrupted.

"This one's mine, Seb." Clary didn't have to look up to know that that silky voice belonged to Jace. And before his friend Seb could reply Jace dipped his head down and sucked all of the clear liquid from her stomach, licking up the length of her abdomen for good measure.

Moving his bent head up her body until it stopped above her head, he replied, "You're brother wouldn't be happy with you."

"My brother wouldn't be happy with you either." she replied cooly, staring into his golden orbs.

He smirked, "Are you drunk?"

"Don't you have a thing against sleeping with drunk girls?" Clary returned.

"Yes." He replied with narrowed eyes.

"Well then I've never been more sober in my life." she grinned.


	11. Chapter 9: Wonder Boy's Bed

**Please don't hate me for taking too long to update... I'm so sorry!**

Clary's head began to pound as she slowly awoke from her slumber. She opened her eyes slightly before she realized how insanely comfortable she was tucked into her soft, cozy bed and she shut them. But something wasn't right. When Clary usually peeked out from behind her lids in the early morning, there were casts of light through her blinds that stretched across her bedroom floor. It felt dark though. And the plush blankets that she slept with were usually strewn about her bed in awkward lumps from her sporadic sleeping habits. The heavy comforter on top of her, however, was perfectly placed across her bare shoulders and the warm body pressed against her back held her tightly across her revealed stomach. Wait— WARM BODY?!

Clary's eyes shot open as she scanned the room she was in, trying not to move she tried to slow her breathing. Shit. The last one night stand she had about a month or two ago had ended up being a total creep and tried to get her to stay in his apartment. She had sworn them off ever since. Then it hit her.

She had gone home with Jace last night.

"Oops." Clary said aloud in a normal toned voice, the sound piercing the quiet air harshly, waking up Jace in the process.

Clary would have considered his groggy gestures extremely arousing if it weren't for the circumstance: she couldn't remember last night. At all.

Finally opening his eyes sleepily, Jace mumbled with a soft, childlike smile, "Good morning."

"Um, good morning neighbor." Clary said, her voice cracking with fear and confusion. She jumped out of the warm bed, despite her brain telling her to stay, and scoured the floor for her panties.

"Is everything okay?" Jace questioned, sitting up slowly, watching her search the spotless floor. The covers gave way when he moved upright, revealing large, tight muscles scraping over his arms and abdomen. Clary could only just manage to tear her eyes away in time before he noticed her stare.

"Yep." she muttered, pulling black, lace panties up her skinny legs, her tight, shimmery skirt from the night before along with them.

The look on Jace's face suddenly turned from curious, to crestfallen. "You don't remember last night." he asked, pain and awkwardness in his quiet voice, "Do you?"

"Um. To be perfectly honest, not really." Clary muttered back, trying to keep her hair in front of her exposed breasts as she searched for her leather bra from the preceding night.

Sighing, Jace reached over onto his nightstand, plucking her leather bra from his lampshade and extending it out to her. "I'm sorry I slept with you." he said, still quiet. "If I had known you were that far gone I would never have—I'm sorry, I—"

"Jace." Clary stopped him, seeing her opportunity to sink her claws into him. "I've been wanting to sleep with you since the day I first set eyes on you," she told truthfully, "I just wish I had been sober enough to remember it." She stated, taking the bra from his hand and kissing him chastely on the lips in one swift motion.

Turning herself around she placed the leather scrap over her boobs and held out the clasp behind her, motioning for Jace to help. He did, and Clary didn't have to be looking at him to know that her words were making him smile like a fool. Clary had always been good at that: games. She could always make a guy think he was the whole world and more.

Her prediction was true, when she turned back around. Jace's dimpled smile was now alight and his eyes gazed into hers with desire.

"Why do I get the feeling you're leaving?" he said cryptically.

Smiling, and leaning down into him closely, she whispered, "Because I am."

Jace artfully grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, so their noses were only centimeters apart, "Where're you going?" he asked, a curious and yet saddened twinge in his voice.

Sighing, Clary readied her big move. "I actually have to go try and talk to Jon." Clary was afraid of whether he would be reminded of the fact that he had just slept with his best friend's half-sister or curious. For the plan to work, she hoped it would be the latter.

"I thought you all weren't close." he offered, knitting his eyebrows together.

"Actually we aren't." Clary sighed, again, playing out the damsel in distress part very dutifully. "Our father actually is in the hospital right now and for the past week or so I've been unsuccessfully attempting to convince Jon to do a liver transplant in order to save his life." Clary spilled out. "I'm sorry. That was really personal."

"No, no," he said, taking her hand now, "It's okay. I had no idea."

"Yeah, um, he doesn't like me very much though," she laughed nervously.

"He cares for you more than you might think." Jace smiled softly at her.

Damn, those eyes. Clary thought as she mentally swooned. It took her a few too many seconds longer than she should have to recuperate and respond.

"Um—yeah," she muttered, shaking her head. Game face, Clary. "Anyway I should, um, get on that."

"Yeah, okay." Jace said, reluctantly releasing her wrist. "I'll walk you out." he started, reaching for the knob on his bedroom door.

"That's really not necessary," Clary said hastily. Guys ate that shit up. Girls who tried to come off independent and uninterested—especially guys like Jace.

Laughing, Jace refused to take no for an answer and walked her to the door anyway. Kissing her softly on the mouth before she had the chance to leave his lavish apartment.

I've already got him, she thought with a smug smile as the elevator descended slowly. Now the only problem was speeding up the process so he could help her get to Jon, and the other problem of course which was how she was going to be walking around New York City in broad daylight in this attire.

 **Okay, yes, again I'm sorry. I know this one is short and way overdue. I've just been busy yada yada yada no one cares. I'm going to try to finish this story by the end of summer because (if you'll give it a look!) i've started another story on the dark artifices. I promise that I'm not going to abandon this story-i already have the outline for the rest of the chapters up until the end so i WILL finish it! Thanks to everyone still reading... thanks for reviews :)**


	12. Chapter 10: It's Big Brother Time

**I know, I know. I've taken way too long to update and now the depressing news that my hard drive crashed and my outline for this story is shot to hell. But I will finish it, even if it's the last thing I do! I'm not gonna lie, coming back to so many great reviews and follows is so nice :) Also, I am sosososososo sorry for all of the typos and bad grammar in the story. I was reading over it all today and cringing at some of the mistakes I made and after I finish it I'm gonna edit the whole thing and fix it all. Okay, anyway, here's the next chapter. Happy New Year!**

 **CLARY POV**

Once again, Clary found herself knocking on her half-brother's apartment door, knowing she wasn't welcome. To her surprise, a curvy brunette who just didn't seem to have her bearings, answered. She didn't however seem to be opening the door for Clary as much as she was trying to get herself out of the apartment. Jon's one night stand gave her a tight-lipped smile, picked up her black-studded stilettos and rushed past Clary, making her way toward the elevator. Clary smirked after her, remembering that that was herself not two hours ago. Since leaving Jace's apartment, Clary had gone back to her own place, showered, and changed. She currently wore thick-cut corkscrew wedges and an army green sundress made of soft fabric that hugged her tightly. Clary's long, red curls fell across her shoulders and she fidgeted with her fresh set of nude nails, her nerves sky rocketing as she took a step into the open door of Jon's apartment.

Clary walked in to a very "boy" apartment. That was the only word to describe it: boy. Street signs were the only art that covered the walls, a flat screen was in the center of the living room and a Budweiser light fixture buzzed in the kitchen above the sink.

"Jonathon?" Clary called, none too loudly in the apartment. The lack of answer forced Clary to continue her snooping around the man cave of a residence.

There was beer in the fridge—and plenty of it. An assortment of action movies were shoved in the glass casing under the TV and the Die Hard dvd case was open and empty, leaving Clary to assume it was currently in the Blue-Ray player. Two picture frames graced the apartment by the table next to the armrest of the distressed leather couch. One of the pictures was Jon, Jace, and two other boys sitting on top of a bar with two pitchers taped to each of their hands. Drunken smiles adorned their faces and all of their eyes seemed to stare straight into Clary. The second picture was one Clary had seen before; it was of a young boy and a man in a suit smiling at one another shyly and playing with trucks. The little boy had on a birthday hat with a number 5 just barely visible from the angle that the picture was taken.

Clary knew immediately that the picture was of Jonathon and her father, it was the only picture (that Clary knew of) that Valentine had of his son. He kept it on his desk in the office at home alongside various pictures of Clary and her mother. Taking it in her fingers gingerly, Clary studied the young boy that was her brother. Clary hadn't gotten the chance to get to know Jonathon very well, but she knew that he was somewhat of a football star back in high school and Clary's father would always go to his games. She wondered if Jon ever knew that. Probably not considering how stubborn her father was; Clary always pictured him sitting in the back of the bleachers and leaving as soon as the game was over. Jocelyn had never liked him going.

"Clarissa?" Jonathon said, coming out from a now open door in fresh clothes as he towel dried his damp, spiky hair. 'What are you doing with that?" he spat, his eyes going to the picture she held in her hands.

"Nothing," she blurted, quickly placing it back on the stand it had previously resided on.

"Who let you in here?" he asked incredulously, his voice starting to rise in anger. Clary knew this was a bad idea.

"One of your bimbos was walking out and she kindly left the door open for me. She looked like fun." Clary joked, hoping to lighten the mood and diffuse the tension. Her hopes were not realized.

"I know why you're here. Now get out." he demanded, making his way for the kitchen.

"Dad has that same picture in his office." Clary mused, trying once again to keep it light. "Seems you both secretly have a soft spot for each other after all."

"Clarissa. For the last time. Get the fuck out." Jon bit with his back to her as he opened the fridge, searching for food that he likely didn't have. Clary was sure that her brother only kept beer here.

"Jon can we please talk about this? Just have one serious conversation and if you still don't like what I have to say you'll never have to see me again."

"I already know I'm not gonna like what you have to say, Clarissa."

Her temper beginning to rise along with her frustration, Clary snapped. "Listen, asshole," she took a menacing stance, putting one hand on her hip and using the other to point in his direction, "if you didn't want to be treated family then you shouldn't have gone all 'protective big brother' in the club the other night. You owe me a conversation at the very least. So would you quit being a dick for five fucking seconds?!"

Stunned, Jon stood in front of his open fridge, his hand resting on the milk carton he had been reaching for before Clary's outburst. He stared at her in either shock or fear (maybe both) for a beat and then sighed.

"Fine. We can have a conversation, but that's all you get."

 **SIMON POV**

Simon had been crushing on Isabelle Lightwood for who knows how long. Clary always offered to help him make a move but he always begged her to never say anything, too scared of the outcome. He finished his text to Clary wishing her luck with Jon and headed toward the small boutique Isabelle worked at when she wasn't taking classes at FIT.

Simon hadn't told Clary about his plan to ask out Isabelle, it was probably the first time in his life that he hadn't asked for her advice before doing something. Over the past few weeks however, Clary had been so worried about her father and preoccupied with all of her half-brother problems that Simon hadn't wanted to add another thing to her plate. He was gonna have to do this one on his own.

Taking in a large breath, Simon pushed open the door of the brightly colored and very empty shop, hearing the ding of the bell from behind him as he determinedly made his way for the counter where Isabelle was painting her nails, obviously bored.

Looking up, she gave him a small smile, "Hey Simon, what's up?"

"I came to see you actually," Simon said with a smile, leaning against the counter smoothly. It was way out of character from Simon's dorky and nervous attitude, and Isabelle noticed.

Raising her eyebrows at Simon's newfound swagger she wondered, "And why would you be coming to see me?"

The words spilled out of Simon's mouth before he could properly think about what he was saying, "I'm here to ask you out."

Isabelle widened her eyes slightly and waited for him to say something else, but he wasn't going to. Without moving a muscle, Simon continued to stare at her, waiting for her response. Finally, after a moment of silence, Isabelle smiled.

"Well then ask me out." Flipping her glossy hair over her shoulder, she went back to painting her nails, looking up at him, waiting for him to indeed ask her out.

 _Wait what?_ Simon thought. _Is Isabelle Lightwood telling me to ask her out?_ Shaking his head slightly and righting himself he did as he was told.

"Will you go out with me? Tonight?"

"Sure," Isabelle replied, an even bigger smile lighting up her face. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," Simon breathed out, thrilled at her response. "I'll come get you at seven." He said, backing out of the store, staring at the most beautiful girl in the world.

Isabelle and Simon both still had smiles on their faces when he exited the store.

 **JON POV**

"He loves you, Jon." Clary argued. "How can you not see that?"

"Clarissa, we've been talking for hours and I'm done. This conversation is over, I am not helping that man. He got himself into the mess he's in."

"He isn't an alcoholic, Jon!"

"Then why is he about to die, Clarissa! Huh? Tell me that?"

Beginning to sob now, his red-headed little sister still pressed on, "Jon, please. You don't understand. You're literally the only option, he's—"

Clarissa's ringtone for her mother set her phone off, lighting it up with a picture of her and Jocelyn hugging at prom. Jon only briefly had time to look at the picture, wondering if their dad had been the one to take it, before the small girl from the picture hit the green button and greeted the other line.

"Hey mom, what's up." Clarissa began to wipe her tears from her porcelain face before she stopped short, a dead stare coming to her eyes. Jon couldn't understand the scrambled talking on the other line, but from the look on his sister's face, he knew it wasn't good. As soon as the thoughts of what could have happened slipped into his mind, Clarissa spoke them, confirming his fears.

"Daddy." she whispered, no life in her voice.

Taking action like he assumed a big brother would, Jonathon snatched the phone from Clarissa's hand and spoke into it.

"Hello Jocelyn, this is Jonathon. I'm here with Clarissa and she seems upset. What's going on? Do we need to get to the hospital?"

Jon could hear Jocelyn stutter on the other end in shock before she finally responded with, "Yes, come straight away."

Hitting the 'End Call' button on Clarissa's phone, Jon put it in his pocket, grabbed his sister's hand and made for the door. It was about time he see his father.

 **Hopefully I'll get better about updating... but probably not :/**


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